Friday, 25 July 2025

Huddersfield Town, from Castle Hill.

 

There’s some great views of Huddersfield Town from the heights of Castle Hill.

It was a great day to take the camera for a walk: it was pleasantly warm, and the air at the summit was surprisingly calm considering the hill reaches a thousand feet above sea level. Best of all though, the light was great; there was cloud cover – quite heavy at times – but it was really patchy and sailed quickly through the heavens, creating swathes of contrasting light which washed over the top of the hill and out over the vista which lay before my eager lens.

I’ve only driven through Huddersfield on a couple of occasions, and I’d never been through the district which led me to Castle Hill. The traffic was quite heavy and, as is the way of these old towns with a medieval heritage, the roads are all over the place. And being unfamiliar with the lay-out meant I missed a few of the turns my sat-nav was suggesting. I got there eventually though; climbing out of the traffic and up onto the brow of Castle Hill where I was surprised by just how rural Huddersfield looked from this vantage point – despite the choking traffic I had to navigate to get there.

Having parked the car, I walked up the final slope towards the Victoria Tower – an enormous edifice built on the crown of the hill to celebrate Queen Victoria’s jubilee year – and unpacked the camera.

As ever, I took a huge number of pictures, most of which will never see post-processing. I enjoyed the experience though, and I hope you like some of the results.

One point worth mentioning: one of the monochrome images I’ve posted here shows a tower in the background. This is the Emley Moor Transmitting Station, it stands 1,084 ft. tall and is, I was surprised to learn, the tallest free-standing structure in the United Kingdom; higher, by 20m, than London’s  famous ‘Shard’.










Wednesday, 23 July 2025

Little Italy, The Bronx.

 Our daughter in law took us on a speculative visit to the Bronx’s ‘Little Italy’. It was one of those days: “ … nothing much to do? Well, why don’t we try …”

She had only visited Arthur Avenue a couple of times herself; a friend had described it and said she should have a look. On visiting, she was really impressed with the quality of foodstuffs produced and sold by the artisan bakers, butchers and delicatessens whose stores line the streets - and to such an extent that she now shops there on a fairly regular basis.

I keep saying the same thing when I’m asked about what it’s like to be in New York – I can only say that it’s like walking through a film set: we’ve all seen the NYC gangster, thriller and crime movies on cinema and tv, and they’ve familiarised us to the ‘Big Apple’ brand: the hanging traffic lights, the fragile looking fire-escapes bolted to the sides of buildings etc. Well, ‘Little Italy’ just epitomises that Zeitgeist.

The ’Little Italy’ neighbourhood is centred on Arthur Avenue in the Belmont district of the Bronx. Italian immigrants gravitated to the area during the 18th and 20th centuries in search of work, and this is where their shops began to start trading. Foodstuffs mainly: they sell their goods to the public, though many also wholesale to City Restaurants and Hotels; you can’t help but notice they’re busy– the stores’ walls, counters and shelves are packed with produce.

It was definitely worth a visit, and I’ll look forward to returning sometime.





















Saturday, 12 July 2025

Castle Hill, Huddersfield.

 

Huddersfield’s Castle Hill is a high landmark which can be seen from almost anywhere in the town that has line of sight to the Almondbury hills and, conversely, the view from the top offers a remarkable vista of Huddersfield’s broad topography.

A designated ‘Scheduled Ancient Monument’, it’s believed that Neolithic and Bronze Age settlers lived there as far back as 2,100 BC. An Iron Age Fort, reconned to have existed from around 500 BC, was replaced by a Medieval Castle built by the DeLaci family in 1140 AD. This is where the Hills name derives from.

Designed by Issac Jones, The Victoria Tower, which sits on the pinnacle of Castle Hill, was built in 1898 to commemorate the great Lady’s Diamond Jubilee. It stands at an impressive 106 ft tall and reaches skyward to 1,000 ft above sea level.

I took a number of pictures with a fast, 200mm lens and also shot this wee video on the Iphone. Hope you enjoy it.


Further information from: 1898 – Castle Hill Tower, Huddersfield, Yorkshire | Archiseek.com



Tuesday, 8 July 2025

the one about graveyards ...

 

St. James the Less Church & Graveyard, Scarsdale, New York, USA.

 

The question was: Who was St. James the Less? I hadn’t heard of him, and I thought I should have?

Although I’m a fervent atheist and ardent follower of writers such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens, I still harbour a keen interest in religious history, in general, and in Christian theology in particular. As well as having digested a number of books on these subjects, I’ve also read the Old and New testaments – cover to cover – a couple of times. I find them fascinating – if wholly fantastical.

As well as being the proverbial ‘heathen’, I’m also a confirmed Taphophile; that is, when time allows me the opportunity to do so, I love nothing better than to while away a few hours with a leisurely stroll through some old boneyard – and the older the better. Sauntering through the final resting places of people who most likely lived and died in the community in which they are now permanent resident’s gifts me an appreciation of how quickly time passes. Here, writ large and poignant, are the epitaphs of those who lived and died among us, their voices silenced now for eternity, but their final words remain etched, literally, in stone; “ … wonderful Son, taken too soon. Aged 23”; “ … beloved wife of Ian, aged 44  (and added later) … Ian, aged 73.”; “Amy … Gone from our sight, but never from our hearts. Aged 14”.

Also, in all the hustle and bustle of modern life, Graveyards have much to offer a weary soul: tranquillity for a start; they’re usually set aside from busy streets and offer little oasis’ of quietude; a haven from those excruciating layers of ambient noise which reverberate around us ALL the time: the growl of trucks, busses and cars; the low, hissy din which echoes throughout the shopping centres: squeaky trolleys, beeping label scanners, the disembodied, monotone announcements made through tinny sounding tanoy systems. In short, I find that graveyards offer a sanctuary for my soul; somewhere I can relax and appreciate the calming sound of silence.

While my penchant for walking among the deceased is largely practiced in graveyards local to home, I have, over years of travel through Europe and beyond, had the good fortune to visit a number of beautiful necropolises. I wish, now, that I’d taken note of their names and locations, and photographed the notable architecture of those Churches that invariably lie at their centre. I’ve started to do so now, but a failing memory won’t gift me the ability to recover a detailed, retrospective list.

Of course, while I love Churchyards, per se, some have been more memorable than others: the most expansive cemetery I’ve ever visited was that of Pere Lachaise in Paris. This is an enormous graveyard – the world’s first ‘Garden Cemetery’ - which houses many famous inhabitants such as singers Edith Piaff & Jim Morrisson (there is an enduring myth that, as Jim was interred – hurriedly - in the graveyards rather cramped ‘Poets Corner’, that he was buried standing up). Then there are composers Chopin and Rossini (though he ‘flitted’ later – but that’s a whole other story), and writers Marcel Proust, Gertrude Stein, Honore Balzac & Oscar Wilde, and actress Sarah Bernhardt – to name but a few characters from a very large directory of the deceased. Over 1,000,000 people are estimated to be interred within Pere Lachaise’s 110 acres.

One of the oldest Cemeteries I’ve visited was the Granary Burying Ground in Boston, Massachusetts, USA. This particular piece of real estate is not an exemplar of the quiet resting places I alluded to earlier though; this dominion of the departed is bounded on one side by the exceptionally busy Tremont Street, which runs through the heart of downtown Boston’s Harbour district. (Think Edinburgh’s Princes Street). Some of the headstones date back to the sixteen hundreds, and four hundred years of weathering have, unfortunately, left many of the inscriptions illegible. It’s a place of great significance to Americans though, as its meagre two acres provide eternal residence for several of America’s founding fathers and War of Independence heroes.

It is also the resting place of Samuel Sewall, one of nine Judges who conducted the infamous Witch Trials in the nearby township of Salem. These trials resulted in the demise of twenty-five innocent souls: nineteen were hanged, one was ‘pressed’ to death with heavy stones, and five died in prison while awaiting trial. Famously, four years after the executions, Sewall rose to his feet during a church service and confessed his guilt for the part he played in Salem’s fatal fiasco. He was the only judge ever to do so.

Anyway, I digress.

I had started this narrative with the mention of St. James the Less; confessing that I hadn’t come across his name the small anthology of history texts I’ve read. The reason his name came up at all was that, a few weeks past, while visiting family in New York state, I was walking down to the town centre when I came upon a Church baring his name. The church itself was pretty unremarkable; I don’t mean to decry it; it’s a lovely building, but it looks similar to many of the stone-built churches constructed around the mid 1800’s. What did catch my attention though, was the adjoining graveyard. It’s huge – in comparison to many of the British & European cemeteries I’ve ambled through.

The thing is, America enjoys a great abundance of that which Britain suffers a marked paucity of … and that is space!

British and European Churches were often constructed within existing towns and villages where their grounds were constrained by neighbouring buildings. As space was tight, their graveyards were – by and large – relatively modest, their lairs tightly arranged and, with no room left to expand outward, will often encroach on the church walls themselves.

Not so in America. The ‘New World’ had lots of space, and more to the point, their churches were often the first constructs to be raised in pioneer communities, so they enjoyed all the acreage they required to serve their congregations and to rest their dead.

The Church of James the Less is a perfect example of this abundance: the building itself being a large structure, it has copious car-parking facilities and its attendant graveyard is both broad and idyllic; the graves well spaced-out over trimmed and well-ordered lawns, many of the stones over-shaded with trees. Of course, I couldn’t resist taking a short stroll through this appealing kirkyard. And, this time, I remembered to take a few photographs.

I deliberately chose to take a winding route among the graves; stopping beside several lairs. I was intrigued by the fact that a number of headstones were decorated with small flags. It’s not a thing you see in Britain, and I haven’t come across this custom anywhere else. I discussed this with the family when I returned to the house and learned that these ‘Stars & Stripes’ – beacons of bright colour within the generic green palette of the graveyard - adorned the resting places of American Soldiers who had served in various conflicts. They are a mark of honour, remembrance and national gratitude, placed by family members and/or veterans associations; a beautiful tribute to those who had served their country.

Oh, and, just for clarity, Saint James the Less is traditionally identified as one of the twelve disciples who followed Jesus, though it’s argued by some scholars that he may also have been Jesus’s brother. He seems to have been a quiet sort and was never quoted directly in the gospels. He is reputed to have met his demise by being stoned to death while preaching in Syria, or to have been thrown from the top of a church in Jerusalem and then beaten to death. I’ve no idea where he was buried, though some sources say it was close to Temple Mount. As is the case with much of the bible, there’s no real evidence.








Monday, 9 June 2025

The people you meet when travelling :-)

Visiting some of the oldest of Europe's Old Towns is both a visual and spiritual experience.

So, when you are out perusing the wonderful sights to be found among old cobbled streets and narrow alleys, and then you're suddenly confronted by historically dressed characters who seem to have been resurrected from the distant past, it just heightens your appreciation of these old, European towns.

In both Koper, Slovenia, and Split, Croatia, we found these characters in all sorts of places; in public squares, outside churches, and we even came upon a couple just taking a casual stroll among those afore-mentioned cobbled alleyways.

I assume they were hired by the Town Council to interact with the tourists - they were certainly keen to accommodate photographers and would happily strike great poses. There were even a couple of Roman Soldiers challenging tourists' children to fights - much to the delight of camera wielding parents.

However they got there, though, their participation added greatly to the ambience of the places we found them, and were much appreciated by the towns visitors.










Monday, 2 June 2025

Dobrota, Montenegro.

The township of Dobrota is essentially, now, an outlying district of the much more tourist-centric, Kotor. We didn’t visit this little neighbour, but I noticed it while taking the camera out on my regular, early morning circumnavigation of deck 12; we sail overnight between those Adriatic coastal ports we’re scheduled to visit on our cruise so, having docked in a new country, I like to get out early with a long lens and capture some of the amazing vistas afforded from the highest point of the ship.

What first drew my attention to this little Adriatic Hamlet – rather than the Port of Kotor itself – was the way in which the sharp, early morning light fell on the white-washed houses and, especially, on the church tower, clearly defining them against the contrasting backdrop of steeply rising, dark escarpments. I say ‘dark’, but, as the sun rose and the light softened, the forested areas seemed to blend from darker shades of teal through to a lighter, sea green (which might have been accentuated by the light reflecting off the sea itself), while the exposed, craggy surfaces turned from dark brown to an almost purple hue.

The other thing that caught my attention was the fact that the bay, that morning, was being used as a cruise ship parking lot; there were three of these enormous oceanic giants anchored in this fashion. We normally park hard against the port walls and exit the ship on gangways from deck 3, however, while the bay was obviously deep enough to accommodate these monsters of the sea, the port was not, so they remained at anchor while we were (later) delivered to shore on the ships tenders.

They’re not the greatest pictures – I always feel my long lens gives my pics a milky texture – but they’ll serve to remind me of the picturesque little hamlet of Dobrota, and of the peace and quiet that (I feel) is best enjoyed when you’re out at sea and cut free from the constraints of terra-firma.





Thursday, 29 May 2025

Dubrovnick Old Town, Croatia.

 The Old Town section of Croatia's Dubrovnik is one of my favourite European destinations.

This town and, indeed, this section of the Adriatic coast has been fought over for centuries - and it's walls still bear the scars. But, now at peace, it's charm is wonderful.